


The Most of It

by applecore



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 00:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19073698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecore/pseuds/applecore
Summary: “I suppose I needn’t ask how you’re feeling.”“Like I got intimately explored by the infamous sewer creature of New York City, complete with souvenirs.” John’s hand closed convulsively over his stomach, which swelled obscenely over the unzipped zipper of his suit pants.





	The Most of It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArgylePirateWD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/gifts).



> My first and very possibly my last Person of Interest fic, but it couldn't have been for a better cause.

“Only a few more hours, Mr. Reese.”

The pained tension in John’s face seemed to relax a little at the sound of Harold’s voice, though he didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Pretty sure you said that a few hours ago.”

“I believe I last said that twenty minutes ago, actually.” Harold dragged the chair to the edge of the couc and wiped John’s brow, damp with new sweat, while his hair hairline was rimed with the old. “I suppose I needn’t ask how you’re feeling.”

“Like I got intimately explored by the infamous sewer creature of New York City, complete with souvenirs.” John’s hand closed convulsively over his stomach, which swelled obscenely over the unzipped zipper of his suit pants. The aftereffects had come on so suddenly that there’d been no time to get them off him; it was a minor miracle he managed to get to the couch. Harold would have been loath to move him now.

Harold offered John the glass of water he’d brought. John sipped a small amount before shaking his head. “No room, Finch.”

“I’m hardly surprised. That’s quite an impressive clutch you’re brooding, Mr. Reese.” 

John’s eyes fell shut again. “Tell me about it.”

Harold glanced at John’s belly again. It seemed to have to have grown just in the few minutes he’d been sitting there. “May I?” he asked, holding out his hand.

John squinted one eye open and managed a smirk—a weak one, but it relieved Harold nonetheless to see it. “Why, Finch, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. You could have just asked me out to dinner.”

Harold took that for permission. He pressed the flat of his hand against the round globe of John’s belly. John was hot to the touch. As Harold pressed, ever so gently, he felt something shift underneath his hand. John grunted and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Harold said, drawing his hand away. “I’m sure that was uncomfortable.”

“Not really,” John said.

It took Harold a moment to take John’s meaning; even then, he wasn’t sure he’d gotten it right. He palmed John’s belly again and massaged gently. John grunted again. “Yeah, do that.”

It was the least pained he’d sounded since this whole thing began hours ago. Harold certainly had no inclination to deny him any modicum of relief. He rubbed a little more, marveling at the way the growing eggs shifted under the pressure. However, he wondered that it could possibly feel good on John’s skin. “I have some lotion,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned, he found John rubbing his stomach himself with both hands. Harold pushed them gently away, squeezed a dollop of lotion onto the feverish skin and began to work it in. As he began working along the underside, he could have sworn he saw John swell still further. John wasn’t making those pained whimpers anymore, though.

John caught Harold’s wrist. “Better stop now.”

“Oh, of course—oh.” For now Harold had bumped up against John’s erection. _Not uncomfortable_ , indeed. Slowly, Harold said, “I can stop, if you prefer. Or I can keep going.”

John gave Harold a very hard look that Harold avoided meeting. Instead he considered the near-spherical shape and remarkable size John’s belly had taken on. He considered the impressive elasticity of the human skin. Finally, John took a shallow breath—all his stomach afforded him now—and said, “You can keep going, I guess.”

“Feel free to participate however you prefer,” Harold said. He pressed both lotioned palms to John. It seemed to him that the massage seemed to help the stretching of the skin. Perhaps that was why it helped. Of course that wouldn’t seem to explain John’s erection, which he now reached for and awkwardly took in hand. “Will you tell me how it feels?” Harold said. “I mean your—condition.”

He couldn’t have hoped to explain his curiosity. It was fortunate John didn’t ask. “Full,” John said, thoughtfully. “Really—really full, but not enough. Before it just hurt, but now—you’re helping. It helps.”

“I’m glad,” Harold said.

John stroked himself. “I think I’m going to get bigger, Finch.”

He already looked beyond full-term, although Harold didn’t know the precise size to be expected of a pregnancy in that stage. Full-term with twins, maybe. 

“As long as you keep touching me—fuck—sorry, I mean—”

“Go on,” Harold said, with a touch of unexpected impatience. He wondered if some of the hormones racing through John had reached him, too. Through John’s sweat, perhaps.

“I think I’m just going to keep growing.”

“Only for a few more hours,” Harold reminded him. He felt oddly breathless.

“A few hours can be a long time, Finch. Depends on what kind of situation you’re in.”

Harold squeezed John’s belly between his hands, feeling the gentle give of eggs. The next moment, John grunted and came in streaks of white. A little bit flecked Harold’s hand. He resisted the unsanitary urge to taste it, though distantly he wondered whether he could do so a second time. “We’ll have to make the most of it, then,” he said.


End file.
